


Tomb

by Katharine Scarritt (Thomas)



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1997-04-01
Updated: 1997-04-01
Packaged: 2017-11-03 13:16:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/381739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thomas/pseuds/Katharine%20Scarritt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Previously published in the fanzine Risk in 1997.  Summary:  Immediately after Gauda Prime, Avon and Vila are prisoners in the same cell. Not slash, but with lots of character interaction, this play was written in 1987 for performance by Paul Darrow and Michael Keating at a con that never took place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tomb

(The stage is completely black.  The lights come up gradually, just bright enough so that we can see two figures sitting back to back in front of the stage.  Their hands are tied together.  As the conversation proceeds, the lighting increases until we can see their faces clearly.  The rear remains in shadow.)

 

VILA:                     ( _coming to_ )  Oh, my head.  Or is it my stomach?  Do I care?  I'm dying.  I'm already dead, that's it.  ( _doubles over, groans_ )  No, on second thought, I can't be dead.  Being dead couldn't possibly be this painful.  ( _pause, looks around, nervously_ )  It's dark in here. 

AVON:                  Is it?  I hadn't noticed.

VILA:                     ( _jumps_ )  What?  Who's there?  ( _pause; no answer_ )  It was nothing, Vila.  Yes, it was nothing.  ( _Avon shifts slightly_ )  What was that?  I heard something.  No, I'm just imagining things.  I hope.  ( _peers out into the audience, trying to orient himself_ )  I don't remember this place.  ( _looks around again_ )  I can't stand the dark.  You never know what's hiding in it, waiting to get you.

AVON:                  You're a fool.

VILA:                     That sounded like Avon.  Avon?  ( _no answer_ )  Is that you, Avon?  ( _muttering_ )  Wonderful.  Maybe it's Avon's ghost come back to haunt me _._ ( _a horrifying thought occurs to him_ )Or maybe I am dead, after all, and this is hell.

AVON:                  ( _interrupting_ )  You're alive.  ( _under his breath_ )  For what it's worth.

VILA:                     ( _pretends not to hear the last_ )That's a relief.  I mean, it would be bad enough to be dead, but it would be worse to be dead and not know it, if you see what I mean.

AVON:                  Shut up, Vila.

VILA:                     Doesn't sound like a ghost.  ( _cautiously_ )  Where are you?

AVON:                  Right behind you.

VILA:                     ( _realizes he's leaning up against Avon._ )  Oh.  ( _pause_ ) Avon?

AVON:                  What, Vila.

VILA:                     It is you, isn't it?  You're not‑‑you know‑‑dead or anything, are you?

AVON:                  Unfortunately, no.

VILA:                     ( _incredulous_ )  Unfortunately?

AVON:                  Some things are not worth surviving.  However, it's purely a temporary problem.

VILA:                     I don't think I like the sound of that.  In fact, I know I don't like the sound of that.  What do you mean, temporary?

AVON:                  What you like or don't like is immaterial.  Our captors are not likely to let us live long enough for it to make a difference.

VILA:                     ( _grumbling_ )  I don't think I'll ask any more questions.

AVON:                  That would be nice.

VILA:                     I don't like your answers.  ( _Avon doesn't respond.  Vila fidgets uneasily for a while_ )  Avon?

AVON:                  ( _in the tone of one who has had much to tolerate and fully expects to have more_ )  What?

VILA:                     Do you know where we are?

AVON:                  Does it matter?

VILA:                     Well, if I'm going to die, I'd like to know who's responsible.

AVON:                  We're in a Federation security base on Gauda Prime.  ( _a moment of confusion_ )  I think.

VILA:                     And the others?

AVON:                  I have no idea.

VILA:                     ( _digesting this for a moment_ )  What do you suppose they'll do to us?

AVON:                  Something simple and unimaginative.

VILA:                     ( _weakly_ )  Torture?

AVON:                  Perhaps if we are fortunate we will merely be executed.

VILA:                     I think I'm going to be sick.

AVON:                  You surprise me.

VILA:                     Wonderful.  Fortunate he says.  Execution.  I've been looking forward to this all my life.  Never a day went by when I didn't say to myself, Vila, Just think, if you keep on living this way sooner or later you'll be executed.  I can't wait.

AVON:                  Shut up, Vila.

VILA:                     Why should I?  I don't have to shut up just because you tell me to.  I don't know why I ever did.  Look where it got me.  If it wasn't for you we wouldn't be here.  Well, would we?  If you hadn't gone and shot Blake—  ( _realizes he's gone too far, abrupt silence._ )

VILA:                     Sorry.

AVON:                  Don't be sorry.  Be quiet.

                                ( _pause_ )

VILA:                     Avon?

AVON:                  What?

VILA:                     What are you doing?

AVON:                  I'm thinking.

VILA:                     Thinking?  Oh, that's terrific.  We're going to die horribly, and you're thinking.  Anyway, I always did say you think too much.  You think yourself into a corner and then you can't get out.

AVON:                  What would you know about thinking?

VILA:                     Oh, yeah?  Well, I may not know anything about thinking, but I do know something about corners.  And this is a corner.  We can't even hope for a last minute rescue from the rebels.  Not after what you did.

AVON:                  Probably.

VILA:                     What's the matter with you?

AVON:                  The only thing the matter is that you keep talking.

VILA:                     ( _tries to get up, realizes he's tied_ )  I wish Blake were here.

AVON:                  Oh, yes, of course, he would be able to get us out of this mess.

VILA:                     He'd think of something to do.  He wouldn't sit there, just thinking.

AVON:                  Very well.  If you want to do something, you can start by getting these ropes untied.

VILA:                     ( _goes to work_ )  What good will that do?  We'll still be stuck here.  ( _pause_ )  Avon.

AVON:                  WHAT?

VILA:                     You don't have to shout.

AVON:                  I can think or I can talk.  I can't do both.

VILA:                     ( _blurts_ )  Why did you do it?

AVON:                  Do what?

VILA:                     Kill Blake?

AVON:                  ( _after a moment_ )  I don't know.

VILA:                     Oh, come on.  There must be some reason.  I've known you for a long time and you never do anything without a reason.

AVON:                  Haven't you got those ropes untied yet?

VILA:                     I'm a thief, not an escape artist.  ( _Struggles visibly_ )  It would be a lot easier if you would help me.

AVON:                  What do you want me to do?

VILA:                     ( _surprised for a second that Avon is so cooperative; shrugs, speaks with confidence_ )  Feel that loop back there?  Well, have you got it?

AVON:                  This one?

VILA:                     Hold it open so I can pull the end through.  ( _there is a silence during which he fumbles with the rope_ )  There, that's done it.  ( _He pulls his hands around, rope trailing from them.   Turns around to finish untying Avon's hands, hesitates._ ) I don't know if I should do this.  How do I know you're not dangerous?

AVON:                  ( _flatly_ )  You don't.

VILA:                     Can I trust you?

AVON:                  Just get on with it.

VILA:                     ( _hesitates again, then complies_ )  I'm going to regret this.

AVON:                  ( _looks at his hands_ )  Thank you.

VILA:                     Don't mention it.

AVON:                  ( _stands, pulling off rope_ )  I won't.

VILA:                     ( _tosses remains of rope to the ground_ )  We're free.

AVON:                  In a manner of speaking, of course.

                                ( _They begin to examine the confines of their cell._ )

VILA:                     This place gives me the creeps.  ( _wrinkles his nose_ ).  Smells bad, too.  Filthy, I expect.

AVON:                  Let's see if there's a way out.  ( _gestures_ )  You check back there, I'll check over here.

VILA:                     It's dark back there.

AVON:                  It's dark everywhere.

VILA:                     But it's not as dark here as it is back there.

AVON:                  ( _touching the imaginary wall between him and the audience, crumbles something between his fingers_ )  That's because this wall is made of phosphorescent rock.  I don't have to tell you what that means.

VILA:                     We're underground?  In a cave??

AVON:                  Right on the first try.  ( _with false joviality_ )  You know, Vila, I do believe you're getting smarter.

VILA:                     Oh, joy.  I told you we'd end up in a hole in the ground, didn't I?  And here we are.  Why do things like this always happen to me?  I should've known.

AVON:                  ( _Avon continues to study the room.  Points to stage left_ )  The door is over there.  Try it.

VILA:                     Do you get the feeling we're being watched?

AVON:                  You're just suffering from a guilty conscience.

VILA:                     ( _hears a noise, freezes_ ) What was that?

AVON:                  ( _With cheerful, black humor_ )  Probably the interrogators coming to get you.

VILA:                     Very funny, Avon.  ( _looks around_ )  Shouldn't you at least check?  Just in case?

AVON:                  ( _faces the audience, examining the wall in front of him for surveillance devices._ )  Nothing.  Nothing at all.

VILA:                     And another thing.  Do you think we should be fooling around with the door?  There might be guards posted outside.

AVON:                  I don't see why they would bother.

VILA:                     But you can't be sure.  ( _After a beat_ )  Well, can you?

AVON:                  I suppose we'll just have to overpower them, won't we?

VILA:                     Are you crazy?  ( _Avon smiles_ )  No, wait; don't answer that.  ( _tries the reasonable approach_ )  Look, Avon, you said yourself this was a Federation security base.  It'll be swarming with guards, all armed to the teeth.  We haven't even got any weapons.  And if there are guards outside, we don't stand a chance.

AVON:                  I thought you wanted to get out of here.

VILA:                     A suicide dash wasn't exactly what I had in mind.

AVON:                  The door, Vila.  ( _he picks up rope and looks at it reflectively_ )

VILA:                     ( _obeys; struggles with door, tries several things, gives up_ ) That's all right.  I didn't want to open that door anyway.  ( _to Avon_ )  It's no good, Avon.  They've got it locked from the outside.  Padlocked, by the feel of it.  ( _kicks door_ )  The old‑fashioned ways were the best.  ( _pause_ ) Perhaps they've heard of me, do you think?

AVON:                  ( _comes to check the door himself; to no avail_ )  Damn.

VILA:                     So what do we do now?

AVON:                  Our choices are, as always, limited.  We'll have to wait until our jailers return.  ( _as an afterthought_ )  If they return.

VILA:                     If?  What do you mean if?  They wouldn't just leave us here to rot?  Would they?  Yes, they would.  There isn't even any food here.  ( _Gets up_ )  Do you think if I banged on the door they'd come and get us?

AVON:                  It depends on which you prefer:  being tortured or starving to death.  ( _stretches rope between his hands_ )

VILA:                     So this is really it.  We're really going to die.  ( _Avon turns away_ )

AVON:                  Apparently so.

                                ( _pause in which each are thinking their own thoughts_ )

VILA:                     Oh, well, Avon, look on the bright side.  At least we're not going to die alone.

AVON:                  Oh, but we are all alone, Vila, all of the time.

VILA:                     Thanks a lot.  That's cheered me up no end.

                                ( _another pause_ )

VILA:                     ( _sudden outburst_ )  Why don't they get on with it?  What are they waiting for?

AVON:                  For me to tell them where Orac is.

VILA:                     So this is all your fault.  Why don't you tell them?  That miserable heap of blinking lights is no use to you now.

AVON:                  ( _throws rope to the ground_ )  I would have thought that even a fool would realize that as soon as they have Orac, we are of no further use to them.  Our only chance of staying alive is to keep quiet and hope they haven't already found it.

VILA:                     A chance you said?  Like what kind of chance?  We'll take on the whole base, just the two of us, is that it?  ( _runs to Avon, grabs him, panicking_ )  Do something, Avon! I'm too young to die!

AVON:                  I'm open to suggestions!

VILA:                     ( _releases him, despairing_ )  It's not even fair.  I was never against the Federation.

AVON:                  Don't tell me.  Let me guess.  You were just an innocent bystander.

VILA:                     No, really.  I never wanted to fight society.  Or reform it.  I only wanted to steal from it.

AVON:                  ( _smiles_ )

VILA:                     ( _Vila likes the sound of what he has said._ )( _expansively_ ) Everyone should have a calling; that's what I believe.  ( _glances at Avon; moans_ )  Why didn't I go straight when I had the chance?

AVON:                  Conscience, Vila?

VILA:                     Maybe.  ( _touch of defiance_ )  Maybe.  I'm surprised you'd recognize it.

AVON:                  What is that supposed to mean?

VILA:                     After all, I'm not the one who got us into this mess, am I?  You've got a lot to answer for, I'd say.

AVON:                  Would you?

VILA:                     First you destroy our base, then you get the ship blown up, then you lead us all into a Federation trap.  The others are probably dead.  All in a day's work, I suppose.

AVON:                  ( _dangerously_ )  Shut up, Vila.

VILA:                     And then there's Blake.  He'd still be alive if it weren't for you.

AVON:                  ( _looks around as if he has been startled_ )  What was that?

VILA:                     I didn't hear anything.  Look, Avon, I—

AVON:                  ( _grabs Vila's arm_ )  Shh.  Listen.  It sounds like water running.

VILA:                     You're imagining things now.  ( _pressing his point_ )  What I want to know is why did you shoot Blake?

AVON:                  Perhaps we are closer to the surface than I thought.

VILA:                     ( _stares at Avon, then shrugs; morosely_ )  Maybe we can dig our way out.

AVON:                  The sound is coming from back there.  Go see if you can locate the source.

VILA:                     Go have a look yourself.  I'm tired of being treated like a service-grade menial.

AVON:                  You should be used to it by now.

VILA:                     You're not serious, are you?  There's nothing back there, you know.  I never knew you to go in for wishful thinking.

AVON:                  You would prefer to wait until they come for us?

VILA:                     What difference does it make?  We're doomed.

AVON:                  Do it, Vila.  Now.  ( _gives him a shove_ )

VILA:                     ( _turns as if to go, then stops, turns back_ )  No.  I'm not going on a wild goose chase in the dark.

AVON:                  ( _grabs his shirt_ )  I'm running out of patience with your idiotic fears.

VILA:                     Oh that's right.  Force me.  For six years it's been Vila do this, Vila do that, Vila fetch me my tools, Vila open this door, Vila you fool, Sorry, Vila, got to lighten the load, so out the airlock with you.  ( _Avon releases him.  Vila straightens his shirt, and continues_ )  Well I've had it, I tell you.  You can do your own dirty work from now on.  ( _sits down firmly in the center of the stage_ )

AVON:                  ( _stares at Vila for a moment, then turns, focusing his gaze on nothing_ )  Very well.  Do as you please.

VILA:                     ( _flabbergasted_ )  I'm not going back there.  I mean it, Avon.

AVON:                  I know you mean it.

VILA:                     ( _after a pause_ )  I don't suppose there really is some way out of here.  I'm not afraid to die, I just don't want to be there when it happens.

AVON:                  ( _expressive silence_ )

VILA:                     Why do I always get the fun jobs?  ( _no answer_ )  Oh, yes, I'm not good for anything else, am I?  Just a useful tool, if you need one.  ( _glances back_ )  You know, you're as bad as Tarrant.  ( _when even this taunt gets no response from Avon, Vila gets up, reluctantly_ )  How am I supposed to find any thing if I can't see?  ( _begins to move towards back_ )  I wish I had a torch.

AVON:                  ( _paces the front of the stage, as if looking for something, then pauses, kneels, and mimes pulling something from the wall._ )  Perhaps some of this rock would do.

VILA:                     ( _In the meantime, Vila has reached the back, and run into something:  a table or dais covered with a dark sheet_ )  OOO—OOF.  Ow—  what's this?  ( _he steps behind the table and lifts the sheet, then drops it abruptly in fright.  After a second, he lifts it slowly again, fascinated._ )

VILA:                     Avon—I think you better come and have a look at this.

AVON:                  ( _indifferently_ )  What is it?

VILA:                     It's Blake.

                                ( _note:  What's under the sheet is never visible to the audience_.)

AVON:                  ( _swings around_ )  Blake?  ( _He stands frozen a moment, immobilized with shock_ )  Are you insane?

VILA:                     ( _pointedly_ ) Not unless it's catching.

AVON:                  ( _he nods to himself as if he is not surprised.  Vila beckons him, and he crosses to_ _stand next to Vila, still carrying the rock, which he 'sets' on the table.  The lights come up on this area.  Side by side they stare down at the body._ )

VILA:                     Speak of the devil—

AVON:                  --Iand he is presently at your elbow?  You did wish Blake were here.

VILA:                     I wish I'd kept my mouth shut.

AVON:                  So do I.  ( _In a sudden movement, he grabs the sheet and covers the corpse, pushing Vila aside.  He looks around suddenly_ )  What was that?

VILA:                     What was what?  I didn't hear anything. 

AVON:                  ( _listens_ )  That.

VILA:                     Rats, maybe.  ( _studies Avon, frowning_ )  What's the matter with you?  You act like you'd never seen a dead body before.  You're not afraid of _him_ , are you? 

AVON:                  No.  ( _But a slight shudder escapes him_ )

VILA:                     You're afraid of something.

AVON:                  Conscience, perhaps.  ( _moves abruptly away from Blake; to center of stage_ )

VILA:                     Conscience?

AVON:                  They say conscience makes cowards of us all.  ( _smiles, briefly_ )  That is what they say, isn't it?  ( _trudges to the front of the stage and sits down_ ) 

                                ( _pause_ )

VILA:                     Cheer up, Avon.  It could be worse.  We could be dead.

AVON:                  That would be worse?

VILA:                     Where there's life, there's hope, that's what I always say.  ( _reaches into his shirt and produces a bottle_ )

AVON:                  Do you?

VILA:                     ( _takes a sip_ )

AVON:                  ( _looks around_ )  Where did you get that?

VILA:                     Never let it be said that I dived into a hole in the ground with out a little something to warm me heart.  ( _sits down_ )  Have some.  It will make you feel better.

AVON:                  I doubt it.  ( _but he accepts the bottle and drinks, grimacing_ )  Your taste is as impeccably bad as ever.

VILA:                     ( _grabs bottle back_ )  Beggars can't be choosers.  ( _takes another drink himself, then replaces bottle in his shirt_ )  It's better than nothing.

AVON:                  That's a matter of opinion.

VILA:                     ( _gives Avon a shrewd look_ ) You know, Avon, you give up on things too easily.  You should learn to appreciate the smaller pleasures of life.

AVON:                  Like you do, no doubt.

VILA:                     Of course.  How do you think I survived all these years with people like you and Blake and Tarrant trying to get me killed? ( _has another drink, savoring.  Throughout the following Avon listens with dubious interest_ ) Now me, I had it beat it into my head, and I do mean beat, at an early age, and by people who made Travis and Servalan look about as dangerous as Punch and Judy.  Bet they were surprised when I fell in with you lot.  Local boy makes good; becomes the hero of the revolution _._ ( _He pauses, musing on past glories_ ).  Well, I had to didn't I?  Blake wanted looking after.  And so did you.  ( _Avon finds this viewpoint quite entertaining_ )

                                Yes, I've had to work hard at surviving.  You might say it's been my life's work.  That's creative genius for you.  ( _Avon rolls his eyes, but Vila has hit his stride_ ) I should put out a vistape:  The Art of Living in an Unfriendly World, or How to Get What You Want While Nobody's Looking, starring Vila Restal, master presit‑‑prestidig‑‑master of illusion.

                                ( _He nods sagely at Avon_ )  Oh yes, you think you've had it tough, you think you're so smart, well, you could take a lesson or two from me.  You had it easy, always enough to eat, a place to sleep, people like me to order around,,,.  All of you.  I didn't have much, but I made the most of it.

                                It hasn't been a bad life, really, I suppose.  ( _after a moment, frowning_ )  What you said about conscience‑‑do you believe in some higher justice, then?  You know, heaven and hell and all that.

AVON:                  I don't believe in anything.  And I wouldn't know about heaven.

VILA:                     You want to know what I think?

AVON:                  In a word, no.

VILA:                     ( _as if Avon hasn't spoken_ )  Conscience isn't your problem.

AVON:                  What is my problem?

VILA:                     The oldest problem in the world.  The need to believe in something, anything, anyone.

AVON:                  Out of the mouths of fools. 

VILA:                     If you like.  It's been your problem from the beginning.

AVON:                  ( _not unkindly_ )  Spare me the psychoanalysis, Vila. 

VILA:                     Blake knew that.  He knew you better than you knew yourself.

AVON:                  Obviously not as well as he thought.

VILA:                     True.  I still don't understand why you shot him.

AVON:                  I didn't really think you would.

VILA:                     Oh, wouldn't I?  Anyway, after all this time, I deserve better than that.

AVON:                  Since you are such an expert judge of character, you tell me.

VILA:                     ( _thinking as he speaks_ )  I guess it makes sense.  You had to kill him.  He trusted you.

AVON:                  ( _savagely_ )  That is not the reason!

VILA:                     Then why?

AVON:                  ( _longish pause_ )  I thought he had betrayed me.

VILA:                     But he didn't.

AVON:                  ( _in the voice of utter despair_ )  I know.  Now, for the last time, shut up.

VILA:                     Suppose now, just suppose, we do manage to get out of here.  What are you going to do then?  It's not healthy, the way you're going on.

AVON:                  Do you imagine I care?

VILA:                     Oh, that's right, I forgot.  Stupid of me.  You don't care  any more for yourself that you do for the rest of us.  We're all equally contemptible.

AVON:                  You should know.

VILA:                     I know that the only friend you ever had is lying dead over there and you don't even have the decency to grieve for him.

AVON:                  What good is grief to a corpse?

VILA:                     Never mind that.  What about you?  Don't you care?  You must feel something.

AVON:                  It makes no difference now, what I feel, or don't feel.

VILA:                     It makes a difference to me.

AVON:                  Then I am sorry.  For you.  Now, will you please leave me alone.  ( _bows his head, covers his face_ )

                                ( _pause_ )

VILA:                     There is one other thing.

AVON:                  Naturally.

VILA:                     About guilt.  It's like wine.  You bottle it up and 10 years later it's as fresh as ever.  And just as intoxicating.

AVON:                  ( _snarling_ )  Just what is that supposed to mean?

VILA:                     Oh, nothing.  ( _after a moment, stands up and goes over to table.  He looks down at Blake, lifts sheet again_ )  It's funny.  He doesn't look dead.  Only sleeping.  ( _nudges corpse_ )  Wake up, Blake.  You're dreaming again.

AVON:                  ( _looks up_ )  Get away from there.

VILA:                     What for?  What do you care?

AVON:                  ( _jumps up, goes over to Vila_ )  I said get away from there!

VILA:                     He was my friend, too, I'll have you know.  I have as much right as you do.  ( _Avon scowls malevolently; Vila backs down_ )  All right, all right, I was just looking.  ( _he steps aside under Avon's watchful gaze, then turns suddenly_ )  You're really crazy, you know.  You spend three years trying to get rid of Blake, then when he leaves, you drag us all over the galaxy looking for him.  The rest of us were just along for the ride.  Then when you find him, what do you do?

AVON:                  ( _quietly but ominously_ )  Enough, Vila.

VILA:                     And even though he's dead, he's still more important than anyone.  ( _bitter_ )  Oh, I didn't mind chasing around after phantoms.  It wasn't like I had anything better to do.  But the way you act, it's like you never knew me at all.  I thought I was worth more to you than that.  Stupid of me, I know.  ( _his anger accelerates_ )  Who do you think you are?  ( _answering himself_ )  The man who murdered Blake, that's who.

AVON:                  ( _throughout Vila's speech, Avon doesn't move, but he is clearly seething.  Vila's final accusation is the last straw.  He pounces_ )  Stop it, do you hear?  Be quiet, don't talk.  ( _shaking Vila_ )

VILA:                     Go ahead.  Just finish what you started, Avon.  Why don't you kill me, too?  Everyone else who trusted you is already dead, so what difference does one more make?

AVON:                  ( _drops Vila as though he has been burned_ )  None at all.

VILA:                     ( _catches his breath, watches Avon for a moment_ )  Avon?  ( _no response_ )  Avon?  ( _a bright light sweeps across stage left as if the cell door is being opened, which it is.  Vila looks up, across the room offstage through the door, and mouths the word Me?  He looks sick for a moment then nods.  After a brief glance at Avon, who does not move throughout, he takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders._ )  Goodbye, Avon.  ( _exit_ )

                                ( _Avon remains motionless for a few moments after Vila has gone.  Then he looks all around him, as if he has never seen the cell before, and slowly walks over to Blake_ )

AVON:                  Well, Blake.  Here we are.  I told you it would come to this sooner or later.  I told you you couldn't win.  But you wouldn't listen.  You were so convinced that you could tear down the Federation, singlehanded if necessary.  ( _smiles_ )  Modesty was never your strong point.

                                ( _He paces up and down, around, picking up the rope, looking at this and that, but inevitably he is drawn  back to Blake's side.  He pulls back the sheet, and stares at Blake for a while, then comes around the side of the table nearest Blake's head and sits on the edge._ )

AVON:                  ( _wrinkling his nose_ )  You know, Vila was right.  This place does smell bad.  ( _conversationally, toying with the rope as he speaks_ )  Tell me, Blake, did you ever miss the Liberator?  The way the control panels sparkled on the flight deck?  Or the scent of the air?  Every so often, you'd get a whiff of citrus‑‑orange‑‑and cinnamon.  ( _glances back_ )  No, I thought not.  Such things were too small for you to notice.  ( _stands up_ )  You had your Cause to think about, after all.  ( _walks away, turns around_ )  ( _suddenly angry_ )  I knew I could rely on that.  I knew I could rely on your obsession.  ( _takes a step towards Blake_ )  But why were you waiting for me?  No.  Don't bother to answer.  I know what you're going to say.  ( _mimics Blake's manner, gestures and all_ )  "I need your help, Avon.  I can do it without you, but I'd rather not try, Avon.  Besides, we're useful to one another."  I didn't come to you so you could use me again.  ( _turns his back on Blake_ )  You left us, Blake, not the other way around.  You left me.  You had no right to expect me to come looking for you.  So why?  ( _turns abruptly, throws the rope down_ )  You said you trusted me, Blake.  I was a fool for believing it.  You never told me the truth.  ( _paces some more_ )  You never did.

                                ( _his manner changes again, almost plaintive now_ )  If it was true, why couldn't you trust me when it mattered?  ( _stops_ )  If you had, you wouldn't be dead.  ( _walks around behind table, facing audience_ )  And I wouldn't be alone.  I thought I was alone before.  After you left.  I thought so after Anna died‑‑after I killed her.  I thought so again when Cally was murdered. No, don't say it.  Even you couldn't have saved her then, Blake.  But you were always there.  Vila was right again.  ( _shakes his head at this_ )

                                ( _he stands very still, for a few seconds, but it is finally too much for him_ )  Blake!  ( _grabbing the body's shoulders_ )  You can't be dead.  I can't have killed you.  ( _releases Blake, turns away, then back_ )( _slams his fist on the table_ )  Damn you, Blake, why did you let me shoot you?  And after I did, why didn't you hate me for it?  ( _walks around to end of table_ )  I could have borne anything but that last reproach.  ( _slides to his knees_ )  It's ironic, isn't it, Blake?  You've finally won.  I shall never be free of you now.  ( _he smiles_ )  You can haunt me the rest of my life‑‑that task should suit the fanatic in you.

                                ( _pause_ )

                                ( _He starts, as a man wakened suddenly from a dream_.)  Well.  ( _stands up, brushes himself off_ )  It can't be helped.  ( _looks around_ )  I know you're there, Blake.  Hiding in the dark.  But I will go on.  Vila was right about that too.  Endurance is something phantoms respect.

                                ( _the lights at stage left brighten again, signifying the door is being opened.  Vila is dumped unceremoniously on the ground, moaning, shattered_.)

AVON:                  ( _murmuring_ )  So this is how they think to break me.  ( _After a moment's hesitation, he goes over to Vila, helps him into a half‑sitting position, holds Vila's hand_ )

VILA:                     …didn't know you cared.

AVON:                  ( _gently_ )  I don't.

VILA:                     I'm dying, aren't I, Avon?

AVON:                  You're not going to die.

VILA:                     S'not—as bad as I thought.  But…think—I prefer starving.

AVON:                  ( _unable to speak_ )

VILA:                     I didn't tell them anything.  Couldn't, could I?  They didn't ask.  Did you know that?  Nothing at all.  So you don't have to worry.  I didn't tell them anything.

AVON:                  I wasn't worried.

VILA:                     I can be brave if I have to.

AVON:                  Yes.  Yes, perhaps you can.

VILA:                     Avon?

AVON:                  What?

VILA:                     You wouldn't leave me here, would you?

AVON:                  Now just where did you think I could go in a cell this size?

VILA:                     I'm sorry about what I said before.  It wasn't true.

AVON:                  Don't be sorry.

VILA:                     No.  Not your fault.  ( _lapses into incoherence_ )  Avon?

AVON:                  Yes, Vila?

VILA:                     It's dark in here.

AVON:                  Darker than you know.

                                                                              ( _hold for a moment, then_ )

                                                                                             _BLACKOUT_


End file.
